The imagery of nonlinear polyurethane

July 2007

By Tom Snyder

My childhood memory of the materials and mixtures and alchemy that went along with a sailboat is of a pungent, romantic and manly world. There was fragrant Italian marline that you just knew was spun and dipped by an old Italian, and there was its cousin, rotten marline, that would break at just the right pressure to release a furled spinnaker. How did that old Italian know when rotten was rotten enough?

In the canvas boat bag – which never didn’t smell great – there were exotic applications like lacquer, which had been around for millennia. And tung oil. Whose tongue? How did they get it in a bottle? How cool was that? Dad’s cable sweater was permanently impregnated with exotic oils and waxes.

Some stuff for the boat had the allure of kitchen science – the mother of all sciences. Baking soda for cleaning, vinegar for cleaning; mix the two together to make an I. K. E. (Improvised Kitchen Explosive). There were ancient remedies for slightly embarrassing problems like spider droppings in deck gear. I didn’t even know that Dad was willing to contemplate the gritty realities of my world closer to the ground.

There were thrilling warnings about never mixing ammonia and bleach, warnings that were accompanied with stories worthy of urban legends. . . “There was this family of eight who mixed ammonia and bleach. When the cops got there, they were all pure white, and dead. True story.” There were also highly scientific sounding solutions such as anhydrous lanolin, but for all that sophistication, you could pick it up at a drug store.

But time flew by, and at 47 years of age, after decades on land, I reintroduced myself to boating. The world of materials had, of course, changed from wood and brass and rubber and vinegar. That is to be expected. The difference is that the new stuff is not accompanied by stories and smells and names that a kid would want to roll around in. I’m not sure I want my kids to dredge up, along with the memory of me, the fragrance and consistency of linear polyurethane.

Plus, there are assorted other problems. I can’t confidently ask questions at a boat store. I want to buy something to wash my dinghy, so I have to tell the guy whether it’s made of Hypalon or neoprene or just an emulsion of peptides and amino acids. I say it’s rubbery and squishy. That is not enough to go on, unless I don’t care if the dinghy warranty is voided because I carelessly chose a product that did not contain a residual silicone-release agent.

Want to clean those plastic windows in your hatches? Better find out if it is a Plexiglas, or is it one of those polycarbonates? Need to buy some masking tape to do a little touchup cosmetic work? That sounds easy, until you are asked if you will be painting a surface that requires a solvent-resistant masking tape. I guess osmotic blisters will never be as much fun as spider poop.

I have surrendered to the likelihood that I will probably ruin my rubber/nylon/subcutaneous port gaskets because I used a nonlinear polyurethane finish instead of a polysulfide sealant with a side of hard copolymer. I make my choices now based on how much I like the smell of a substance. Would I want my kids to think of me when they smell it decades hence? Will they remember that, as we sat in the cockpit, I used to patiently remind them that two-part urethanes always cure catalytically? Gosh, I hope not.

Tom Snyder sails Blue Moon out of Peaks Island, Maine.